


so, i think i'm a xenophile

by uumiho



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Hermaphroditic Trolls, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, PWP, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumiho/pseuds/uumiho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I haven’t gotten to watch any filthy weird troll sex, and I feel a little insulted by that.”</i> </p><p>Dave is pretty excellent at playing it cool, but his alien lovers keeping the lock-down on all their dirty alien sex secrets just won't fucking do.  So he does something about it.  And it's awesome.  The end.  You don't even need to read the story anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so, i think i'm a xenophile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Asuka Kureru (Askerian)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askerian/gifts).



> So, I said I usually don't post my PWPs. Apparently I'm a liar.
> 
> This is dedicated to Asuka Kureru (aka. Askerian) because she has fed my dirty poly kinks more than any other author on the internet and that cannot go without some measure of gratitude expressed.
> 
> This has only been lightly edited by a friend; it will receive a more thorough editing later, but in the meanwhile feel free to point out any corrections.

One day you finally work up the balls to ask the question you’ve been wondering for ages.

“So, how do you guys fuck?”

Terezi and Karkat stare at you.

None of you are wearing very many clothes.  Karkat’s pants went somewhere, and Terezi’s missing those _and_ a shirt, baring a skinny chest and round hips and the sexiest rainbow patterned boxers you’ve ever seen.  You opted out of the no-pants party but your shirt is wrinkled and wedged halfway under the couch, which you are currently lounging on.

Your dick is hard as rock and you think you might have to join the pantsless brigade somewhat soon, but there are matters even more pressing than your boner against the fly of your jeans.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that,” you say, when neither of them offer any information edgewise.  “We’ve all engaged in a thorough fucking exploration of each others’ freakish alien junk, and you guys know how humans fuck but aside from our incredibly acrobatic daisy chains of carnal lust and more imagination than can be realistically contained in three bodies--even ones as incredibly sexy as ours--I haven’t gotten to watch any filthy weird troll sex, and I feel a little insulted by that.”  Karkat’s starting to look a little pink around the edges, but Terezi snickers and gives him a contemplative look.

Good ol’ fucking Terezi.

Her nostrils flare in that way they do when she’s trying to get a better picture of whatever she’s concentrating on; you watch her jaw work under the sharp angle of one grey cheek, knowing from having your tongue further in her mouth than should be possible that she’s chewing on the inside of her lip to quell her desire to slobber all over something.  Usually you’d invite her to put her tongue to good use somewhere on your anatomy, but your nipples are already bruised and your hips look like a fucking massacre of pointy teeth marks and redpurple hickeys, so you let it slide.  There’s more important things to be accomplished here.  Terezi leans toward Karkat and sniffs delicately, a smile dancing on the tar black of her lips.  “Dave has a point, you know,” she says, her voice halfway between a singsonging lovebird and a buzzsaw.

Karkat looks desperately like he wants to protest, but is fighting the fact that he can’t think of a good reason to refuse.  “You’re a fucking perv,” he says, finally.  “I don’t ask _you_ to let Terezi fuck you while the whole fucking world watches.”  Terezi looks inordinately pleased at the general understanding that she would be (is going to be, you hope) the one doing the fucking.

It’s not true, anyway, because a week and a half ago Terezi pushed you face-first into the floor and pulled hard at your hair while she fucked you until you almost screamed into your folded arms, and Karkat ended up sitting two feet away, staring in awe at what must have been the most gorgeous sight his ocular globes had ever fucking beheld.  You don’t bring this up because you made some pretty embarrassing sounds and don’t really want to invite Karkat to comment on them again, even if the soreness in your scalp and your ass provided enough sensory recollection that you must have jacked off to the memory at least three times before your dick was too chafed for it to be comfortable anymore.

Winding her long, bony limbs around Karkat, Terezi slides her ass across the floor so she can purr in his ear.  Trolls can fucking _purr_ , you remember, not like a cat but like gravel in a tin can rattling inside their ribcage.  It’s fucked up and weird as hell but you have trouble complaining when Terezi is doing something you can’t really see behind Karkat’s back and he starts up at it while your dick is halfway down his throat.  Her nails prickle the back of his neck and you watch him shudder, his legs, wiry with muscle, twitching and curling in toward him until they bump into the thigh she’s draped across his lap.  She nips the elongated shell of his ear and chuckles, “Don’t be afraid, Karkitty.”

“I’m not fucking scared,” he snaps, shoving her.

Like a tiger, she pounces on him.  You wonder if this is actually legitimately part of the process as you wiggle yourself into a more comfortable position, watching a flurry of pantsless legs kicking in time as they bite at each others’ mouths.  Terezi wrestles Karkat out of his shirt and bites at his ribcage, dips her tongue into the valleys of his throat, pins his elbows to the ground and ignores when he claws at her shoulders viciously as she sucks at his nipples hard enough to raise dark red splotches against his charcoal smear of a chest.

You didn’t even know trolls _had_ nipples, but apparently those are a thing your respective species share.  Which is great in every imaginable way, because Karkat’s are sensitive enough that he yowls and squirms under her, breathing escalated into rough pants. 

He casts his head back and forth.  Your eyes meet.

You consider taking off your shades to get a better view.  By the way Terezi’s working her way down Karkat’s torso, sliding her palms down his forearms and swirling her tongue over the flat expanse of his stomach, you think their show deserves your full sensory attention.  You let them slide down your nose a bit, just in time for Terezi to lock her fingers tightly around Karkat’s wrists and hold them in the air above his hips as she nuzzles her face against the shadow his bulge makes through the thin fabric of his underwear.

At this moment, your cock reminds you that it’s powerfully, painfully erect and you have way thicker material restraining it from glorious freedom.  You shift uncomfortably, noting that it’s so fucking stiff a midget could use it to do pull-ups or something, and you muse over this metaphor until Terezi stops tortuously sliding her tongue just under the waistband of Karkat’s boxers and looks up at you, grinning.  “This good enough for you, coolkid?” she asks, and you almost want to call the whole thing off and tell them to get on top of you _right fucking now_.  That would be sort of pathetic and massively uncool, however, so you settle for a vague smirk and letting your glasses slide a few centimeters further down the bridge of your nose.

“Honestly, I’ve seen better,” you say, and you don’t even need to _try_ to affect the bored tone of your voice; by now it’s a flawless skill, a coolly trained habit.  Karkat snarls and tries to sit up, but Terezi headbutts him in the stomach and he goes back down, wheezing.

She takes the opportunity to divest him of his boxers.

“Fuck, Terezi, _what the fuck_ \--” Karkat sputters, then Terezi hooks him under the knees with her calves and digs her claws into the back of his neck, using the momentum of his struggle to flip them over.

“Shut up, Karkat,” she instructs, cheerfully devious as she stretches out beneath him.  “Or I might change my mind.”  Her grin is a wide crescent of tiny white daggers and silent laughter, wrapped in swollen black lips dotted with teal blood from the scratches inflicted by Karkat’s teeth, duller than hers but no less vicious.

Your shades fall clean off your face, and you almost forget to pick them up.

Terezi’s tits are tiny and pointy like the rest of her, and they follow the sharp arch of her ribcage as she curves her spine to drive her hips into Karkat’s.  His cheeks are red when he twists his hips between her thighs, grinding down against her and making a soft sound at the feeling of his naked bulge against the fabric of her boxers.  Their hands go to her waistband at the same time, and the slick, teal length of Terezi’s bulge twists into sight.  In one clumsy motion they throw the garment away, and it lands in such a way that you can see where the crotch is stained from her leaking snatch.  You wish you could see it drip down her thighs, leaving shiny bluegreen trails along the soft grey insides of her legs.  Karkat drops his mouth to her chest and rubs his fingers against her nook, and as you strain to see as much as possible, your right hand creeps slowly toward the fly of your pants.

The rock of his elbow, back and forth like the beat of a song, sets the pace for your hand, rubbing yourself roughly through the thick fabric of your jeans.  Terezi’s hand joins the party--and you think a jack-off party is way better than a pants-off party, though you suppose one could easily lead to another, like a double party of fun and oh _fuck_ , those are long, sooty fingers curling around the lightly writhing curve of Karkat’s dick, squeezing it and twisting her wrist nimbly like her hands were _made_ to be wrapped around a cock.

Then Karkat’s riding her fingers and gasping and you give up, you fucking give up, your hand is in your pants and you don’t even bother building up slow, because you shove your fingers under the fabric of your boxers too and grab li’l Strider with all the furiosity of a diabetic fat kid trying to steal candy from the grocery store.

Heavy breathing is the only sound that fills the room for several long minutes, until you realize your eyes have slipped closed and you’re running on imagination and the beautiful sound of Karkat’s whimpers and Terezi’s keening.  Your eyes snap open and, raggedly, you call out, “Guys.”

Neither of them respond.

“ _Guys_.”

You hurl a pillow at the back of Karkat’s head, and in his surprise he yanks his hand away from Terezi’s groin and whirls around to glare at you; beneath him, Terezi hisses in displeasure.  “Not that this isn’t great and all,” you say, surreptitiously sliding your hand out of your pants and anxiously drumming your fingers against your hipbone to convince yourself not to put it right the fuck back, “but this isn’t really what was on the menu for tonight.”   Your stare is very pointed.  Your boner is very irritable.

Their faces study yours, then turn to each other.  You try to understand their feelings, considering that in all the weeks you guys have been snogging and screwing in various different combinations of the three, they haven’t fucked each other just one-on-one.  At least not in front of you, which you guess could make all the difference.

Karkat begins to inch away, but Terezi rolls her back and lunges for him, her mouth attaching fiercely to his own as she lays him flat on his back, her small breasts squishing between them.  Their hips rock without coherence; they mumble into one another’s mouths, things you can’t hear, but you pick up the syllables of a couple swear words and smile despite yourself.  Terezi starts to sit up and Karkat follows her with his mouth, lifting his shoulders from the cold floor and seeking her heat.  For a second she allows it, both of their abdominals twitching as they hover midair, messily moving their lips like they’re sucking out one another’s life force, but then Terezi pushes him back flat, and lifts her head to face you.  She can’t see you, but you look straight into the empty redness of her eyes and watch her nostrils flare as she drinks in your scent.

This new angle is... good.

You put your hand back in your pants, and watch her concentrated stare turn into a grin.  She lets you stroke yourself for a time, her blank stare fixed like you can pretend she’s seeing you more than smelling.  Karkat is watching, too, and finally he growls, gruff and bashful, “Shit’s in the way, you useless asshole.”  You pause, lifting your eyebrows, and consider being difficult before Terezi lets out a bright cackle of amusement and delight.

“Off with the pants, Strider!” she instructs.  That would take too much work, so you do the next best thing and slide your pants down your thighs and carefully navigate your cock out from under your waistband, revealing just enough to make their attention focus on you that much more raptly.

“Okay, okay,” you say, settling the crook of your thumb around the base of your cock and eying them speculatively.  “Your turn.”

Carefully they gravitate around one another, arranging themselves until Terezi is kneeling between Karkat’s legs, their pelvises pressed close together.  You can see everything from this angle: Terezi’s face, the slant of Karkat’s brow, the space between their chests and their junk, shifting with each tiny rub of their hips.  Karkat moves his hand; he’s staring at Terezi, forgetting to put on a scowl for your purposes.  His eyes are soft as he reaches down and grabs his own cock, then reaches for hers, and you watch with interest as they twine together like... like tentacles, like fucking two differently coloured alien dicks wrapping together and making the aliens attached to them shudder and blow air through their noses as they try to get themselves under control.  (You know from experience that their bulges aren’t actually dicks and are way more like giant semi-prehensile clits, weird and slippery and impossibly sensitive, they don’t really shift between hard and flaccid like a dick would--but you can’t stop thinking of them as cocks, because for all its strangeness having both in one person is almost too awesome to be true, and you’ve explored half of the possibilities that lends so far and have dozens of plans to tear into the other half as soon as possible.)

Terezi twists her hips and grinds her snatch into Karkat’s, and as your fingers curl around your cock without needing instruction from your brain, you realize this is it.  The nasty secret to troll copulation.  It’s like fucking penis-fencing and scissoring all in one and it’s fucking hot as hell, hot enough that the wrinkles on Terezi’s brow  as she squeezes her eyes closed makes you want to moan.  You bite it back, and the empty space left in the air is filled by Karkat making a low, rough sound deep in his chest.  He purrs a little and your hand moves lightning fast up and down your cock, drawing quiet little grunts out of you as Terezi squeaks and rolls her hips, a motion that follows all the way up her spine, to the back of her skull as it drops to one shoulder like her neck can’t support its weight.

She buries her face into the hard-softness of his abdomen and starts to laugh, high and breathy, because she’s fucking TZ and _that’s what she fucking does_.  Your eyes bore holes into the grey expanse of their shoulders as you remember hips jerking under your nose as your tongue pressed into her slit, shrill, hysterical chuckles echoing in your ears as she thrashed against your mouth, deliriously expelling whatever noise came to mind.

Your hand speeds up, though you don’t let yourself surpass the frenetic jerks of their hips meeting together, seeping red and teal genetic material or whatever the fuck they call it into each other.  Terezi grabs Karkat’s hand and he wraps a lock of her hair around his fist and pulls; she digs her teeth into a buckling bump of skin over his ribcage and he jerks her skull harder.  Snarls roll in their chests--they growl, one long, harmonizing sound, then Karkat drops his hold on her hair and pushes his hand between them, wrapping around their entwined bulges and pumping quick and hard.

Terezi laughs.  Terezi cackles and gasps and chokes on the sound and it’s beautiful, beautiful enough to make you moan as you stroke yourself as roughly as you imagine Karkat is.  Their heads snap toward your direction, and you look into both of their faces.  “Don’t fucking stop, you stupid assholes.”

“Like--”  Karkat gasps, accidentally jarring his elbow into his own knee but not slowing, not caring, “Like we’d fu-- fucking stop for _you_ \-- You nook-guzzling piece of shi _ahhhhhhh, oh, Terezi, fuck_ \--”  She might be chewing on his nipple for all it looks like, her teeth digging mercilessly into his chest for a long, unbearable second--it even hurts you to _watch_ \--but then there’s her tongue, her lips, sucking and licking between the dips and swells of his chest with brutal determination.  Karkat’s feet are no longer on the floor as Terezi bends over him, fucking his cunt with hers, their cocks writhing together, squished between their stomachs.

They’ve slid a foot and a half away from their original space, and in their wake you can see a muddled swirl of smeared teal and red fluid in drops on the floor.

 _Fuck_.

You’re going to fuck them after this, first one and then the other, after you’ve licked the cum from their wet thighs while they squirm, sensitive and high off the happy o-hormones.  And then you’re going to let them fuck you, however they agree is best, because being tag teamed is awesome and filthy and Bro didn’t raise you to be a whiny piece of sexually vanilla dogshit.

Karkat is moaning like a virgin in a porno, carding his fingers through Terezi’s wavy, tangled hair, clenching and unclenching his fists.  A couple times his knuckles run into her horns, making her jerk, but he doesn't seem to mind.  She’s facedown against his chest, whimpering a wobbly stacatto, quiet, frustrated, so-close, almost-there grunts.  The tendons of her hand all stand out as she tightens her fingers around the underside of one knobby knee, pushing it back until it’s almost level with his shoulder.  You can see more now, see their swollen nooks sliding together, and you lose it, you fucking lose it, just fourteen seconds before Karkat’s spine twists and Terezi slides her forearm under the small of his back and uses the leverage to hold him close, get a few good thrusts in before he makes an aborted groan and tenses beneath her.

You don’t get to see the gush of red that spills from him, but you see the aftermath, shining and dripping between the locked joint of their legs. Comparatively, the jizz spattering your stomach looks almost boring.

It feels like you’re dying from asphyxiation, like moving is a dead-limbed impossibility, but you lick your lips and murmur anyway, talking at her as she shuts herself out from everything else but the moment, the red-hot needles you know are prickling under her skin.  “Yeah, c’mon Rez, TZ, babe.  You’re so close,” you hum, eyes unfocusing but still trained on whatever of her you can see.  “So close, just let go, yeah?  You can do it, Teez; Jegus dick, you’re so fucking hot, do you know that?  Hot isn’t even close enough--you’re fucking on _fire_ , burning up the universe, damning us to eternal fucking bullshit because you're too hot for this godfucking meteor to keep hurling through space, we're gonna--”  Terezi lets out a loud, broken wail and her limbs go taut, shaking hard.  Karkat rumbles quietly and strokes a hand down her sweat-soaked hair, down the bumps and dips of her spine.  She lets out a ragged pant; you watch Karkat dig his fingertips into the muscles between her ribs until she collapses against him, gasping and breathing out soft, muffled whimpers into his skin.  You drop your head against the arm of the couch, not remembering when you lifted it up to get a better look at them, and heave a sigh.

“Holy fuck,” you say.

“Yeah,” mumbles Karkat.

“Mmph,” says Terezi, still facedown against Karkat.

For a long time, you don’t say anything at all, not one of you.  The room cools of heat and sweat and you mellow in the soft sound of the three of you breathing, coming down from the high, descending into puddles of warmth and multicoloured jizz.  It’s calm--for just this second, the three of you aren’t as chaotic as usual.  And then your lip quirks, and you twist your head to look at them.  “So--

“Who wants to come over here and sit on my face?”


End file.
